HOME | DD

Description
and I was in love with her face.
contorted and twisted. like the misery that was dripping from her eyes.
what a pleasure that must have been. to see her in such dripping, aching delight.
You can't get to heaven without going through hell.
if there ever was a place. such a place, must certainly be inviting, in its small and little bites.

Like lacerations. It's the pain, isn't it.
It's the rush. Like rushing water. And dropping mountains. Of self-reflection mixed with the inevitable scream of satisfaction and misery.
Oh how delightful that must certainly be. Did you see their faces as you watched them become ashes? Was it a thrill? A high so great you could reach your reflection, and slice it with a knife.
It was bloody of course.
To carve your innocence into her flesh with that blade..
Gods are little demons too, aren't they? Broken dolls we spend our lives trying to fix. But if gods were human too, then why can't we fly? Or make the world cry in a blazing fire of filthy words that we spend our own time creating?

..so that when you ask me where I've been, I don't have to tell you. And you can just know. The pillar fell. Life ended. Innocence terminated..
And it happens all the time..

People cry at the funeral. But other than that, we're just a sideshow to get you through your next hard-on.
You say it doesn't matter..

book closed..

~End~

Description
and I was in love with her face.
contorted and twisted. like the misery that was dripping from her eyes.
what a pleasure that must have been. to see her in such dripping, aching delight.
You can't get to heaven without going through hell.
if there ever was a place. such a place, must certainly be inviting, in its small and little bites.

Like lacerations. It's the pain, isn't it.
It's the rush. Like rushing water. And dropping mountains. Of self-reflection mixed with the inevitable scream of satisfaction and misery.
Oh how delightful that must certainly be. Did you see their faces as you watched them become ashes? Was it a thrill? A high so great you could reach your reflection, and slice it with a knife.
It was bloody of course.
To carve your innocence into her flesh with that blade..
Gods are little demons too, aren't they? Broken dolls we spend our lives trying to fix. But if gods were human too, then why can't we fly? Or make the world cry in a blazing fire of filthy words that we spend our own time creating?

..so that when you ask me where I've been, I don't have to tell you. And you can just know. The pillar fell. Life ended. Innocence terminated..
And it happens all the time..

People cry at the funeral. But other than that, we're just a sideshow to get you through your next hard-on.
You say it doesn't matter..

book closed..

~End~